


Making Friendly

by Dallas Genoard (Kankri)



Category: Baccano!
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-22 11:26:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/912651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kankri/pseuds/Dallas%20Genoard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It seems like seconds after he’s knocked that the door swings open. Claire stands there; his grin looks a little too big for his face, and the shirt he’s wearing definitely isn’t his – it hangs off his left shoulder, and his collarbone juts out almost dangerously through paper-pale skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making Friendly

[ **September, 1924** ]

He watches as the car rolls away, and he feels a sense of emptiness seeping in the further down the street the wheels carry his guardian for the day. Arms wrapped firmly around the rolled up sleeping bag, an eleven year old Firo Prochainezo turned to face the cozy building that belonged to none other than the Gandor family. He didn't know most of them very well, but he had been close friends with one of the four in particular – Claire Stanfield. He'd met him two years ago, and found him to be particularly fun to play with.

It was someone's birthday, he was told. Someone Claire said was _very_ important to him. When he'd inquired who, as he couldn't really recall the ginger introducing him to very many people before, he'd gotten a smile and a flick in the forehead as a response. At first. It took a bit of pouting, and more than a few faces, but eventually, he'd been informed that the shy brunette that sometimes tagged along to the park with them, who sometimes watched them performing tricks on the playground, was his younger brother. And, as he had said, _the most important thing in my life._ Firo thought it odd, since Luck didn't talk much, but that was alright.

It seems like seconds after he's knocked that the door swings open. Claire stands there; his grin looks a little too big for his face, and the shirt he's wearing definitely isn't his – it hangs off his left shoulder, and his collarbone juts out almost dangerously through paper-pale skin. His hair looks like a bigger mess than it usually is, and something is smudged over his cheek. Behind him, someone is squealing. Whether it's with laughter or something more malicious, he can't really tell. Sometimes, it sounded all the same.

The barefooted redhead steps to the right, pushing himself against the door to reveal an open pathway, but Firo hesitates. Now that his friend isn't in the way, he can see the boy – Luck. He's being held against the ground by an older boy, older than Claire, and a third is sitting on him, holding … a jar of honey, it looks like. It's upside down, and there's a thin trail drizzling down, and Luck is _screaming_ , but he's laughing all the same. In fact, all of them are.

Uncertain, he steps inside, and he doesn't have time to react before the door slams behind him, and suddenly he's in the air. He drops the bundle from his arms in surprise, yelping, and grabbing desperately at the arms around his waist. " Claire – "

" I got a new one! " he declares triumphantly, awkwardly hauling his new capture over to the other three boys.

The oldest looks up – the one with the bottle of honey – and his smirk is bone-chilling. Firo squirms, but his nails are digging into Claire's arms, because as much as he'd like to be put down, he's definitely afraid of being dropped.

" No, no, come on! This ain't fair, pu'medown, Claire! "

The bigger looking guy releases Luck, who's still giggling breathlessly, and moves over to the couch, holding his hands out like he's showcasing the furniture or something. " Lay 'im down. "

" Don't gotta tell me twice! " And before Firo can even try to protest again, he's practically tucked against the warm body behind him, and suddenly they're tumbling, and his back hits something soft, but then a heavy weight drops on top of him, and he only gasps breathlessly. " Gotcha. "

The voice is against his ear, and he squeals. " Claire, you dumdum, get offa me! I can't breathe, geez, what's wrong with you, huh?! "

" Whoa, that's rude, " comes the response, then the weight is on him again, but it's worse this time. " – Holy cheesus, Luck! " Claire is whining, and there's more laughing. There's a struggle now, then more weight – on his legs this time, at least, and Claire and Luck both are complaining now, this time in Italian and Firo can't make out what they're saying, but he can vaguely see the guy with the honey bottle sitting dutifully upon both of the other boys.

The big guy is still standing by, but he's practically howling with laughter against the arm of the couch.

The ruckus, chaos, and general lack of oxygen goes on for about two minutes – or was it seven? Who knows, it's hard when you're being dog-piled by three older boys – then everything seems to calm down. The guy with the honey bottle is pushed off, and Luck scoots off, and Claire follows suit and he has his arms around Luck's shoulders, and his face is buried against the brunette's cheek, and he's giggling at something that the first guy says, in Italian again.

Then simultaneously, all four brothers turn their eyes onto Firo, who's still laying on the cushion, sprawled out where they'd left him moments before, staring at the ceiling like it held the secrets of the second coming of Jesus Christ Himself.

It's Claire who speaks first. " Hey, Firo. You know Luck already. " He pats the chest of the boy he's practically hung all over, and hooks a thumb in one of his suspenders, before snapping it against him. Luck scowls at him and smacks his hand, but the frown doesn't his reach eyes. Then his hand darts across Luck's face, and he presses his index finger into the cheek of the oldest looking boy.

" This mute freak is Keith. He doesn't see a lot of point in words; he isn't any sort of incompetent fool or anything, and he isn't as moody as he looks, I promise. Don't let him scare you, he loves kitties. " He sniggers as Keith rolls his eyes, but naturally, no protest comes. There never _are_ any.

Next, Firo is being pressed under Claire's weight again, but after having Claire _and_ Luck on his chest, he doesn't mind so much. He cranes his neck, squishing into the cushion to try and see what is effectively above and behind him.

" This guy's Berga. Don't give him any sass, and he won't whoop your – "

" _Claire_ , " Luck hisses, elbowing him sharply in the ribs. Claire lets out an indignant whine in response, and recoils, curling up against his side. Firo can just barely make out a mumbled, _I was just gonna say_ butt _, Luck_ , and he grins faintly.

" Uh. " Pushing himself to sit up using his elbows, chocolate irises swept between each of the siblings. Keith was eying him in solemn silence, Luck was rolling his eyes at Claire, who was burying himself against his ribcage and whining melodramatically, and a quick turn of his head registered that Berga now had his arms crossed on the couch arm, and he was slouched over and giving him a good-hearted smile.

" Nice ta meet ya guys. " He's a little awkward despite everything, but he smiles all the same, " I'm Firo Prochainezo. Uh, I'm workin' for the Martillo family, and … " The words die in his throat, mostly a bit of stage-nervousness, he thinks. " … It's … I'd like ta be friends, " he adds quickly, and he wishes for the moment that he could sink into the couch and disappear.

Berga snorts, then moves to push him over against Claire so he has room to sit down, and kicks his feet up onto the table in front of the couch. " I don't know, " he says with a roll of his shoulders, looking over their guest to his siblings, who in turn meet his gaze curiously. " I think we gotta test him, first. See if he's good enough to hang with the Gandors. "

" Huh? "

" Ahh, yeah. " Claire smirks, untangling himself from Luck, and sits up straight now, bouncing on the cushion he and the younger boy shared. " We should; I mean, he's fun and all, but … "

" Wait – "

" I'll go get the blindfold, " Luck pipes in, now that he's free from Claire's clingy grip. He wipes honey from his face, and slips off the couch, and dutifully disappears down the hallway without another word nor glance in the direction of the other boys.

" Um, what – "

" It's for the best. "

The voice startles Firo for a moment before he realizes that Keith spoke. He had to be seventeen at least, and his voice reflected such, and it was a little scary.

Claire nods furiously, and gives him a mischievous, noxious little smile that sets his nerves on the fray. " Don't worry too much, we won't hurt ya or nothing; you hurt yourself more hanging out with me at the park every day. " His laugh is easy and loose, and his shoulders tremble with the effort to stifle it a little, and Firo isn't sure if that scares him more, or eases his fears. It's confusing.

It isn't long until Luck comes back, and he has a ragged looking bandanna in his hands. He simply smiles, and moves to step in front of the fifth boy, and for a fleeting moment, the eleven year old wonders if this is _really_ the same boy that sits sulkily on the park bench with those haunting fox eyes, watching and observing, but never speaking. He shivers.

" Should I, um, close my eyes now? "

" Probably, " Luck responds, and though he's uncertain, he trusts Claire, and he closes his eyes as he's told. The cloth presses gently against the bridge of his nose, and he hears the hiss of silk as the suspenders brush Luck's shirt when he leans forward so he can secure the bandanna round the back of Firo's head.

It's amazing how much losing one sense heightens the others.

Then Luck pulls away, and they speak to each other again, but once more, it's not in English and he isn't sure what they're saying. Berga laughs, then Claire bursts out in a fit of giggles all over again, but Luck and Keith remain fairly silent. Firo suspects each boy has a grin on his face anyway.

" Upsy daisy! " Arms are around his waist, and he's being hauled backwards into someone's – Claire's – lap. He grabs onto the boy's arms again as the redhead slides them both off the couch, and fumbles with the added weight until he's on his feet properly. " Okay, _per il bagno_ , " he declares, and footsteps rush off to the right. The hallway?

" Hold still, _you're_ heavy, " Claire mutters, and then he's bouncing against the ginger's chest and his feet are dipping against the ground every few steps, but he tries to do as he's told because this is supposed to be fun, right? Or, that's what they'd have him believe, anyway, with the way they seemed so amused about it.

He hears a door click, and a pull chain; the sound echos, but he doesn't think they're in the cellar. They could be, but it didn't seem like a long enough walk, and he hadn't felt the bump of stairs.

" O – kay, uhh … Where? "

Keith speaks, " Over here. "

" If you need any help – " Berga.

" I got it. " Claire. He can feel the vibration of his voice through his back. It feels weird. " Okay, move it. Yeah. All right. " He's being lifted up higher – he can feel Claire bending backwards to get Firo's feet up – and then he's being set down. On something very, _very_ cold. When had they taken his shoes off? He didn't even _notice_ before now.

" Sit down, " Luck says. He's quiet, but firm, even with a playful melody to his voice that twisted through the words.

After the other three chimed in that he should definitely sit down, Firo does so. His hands instinctively move to either side as he bends his knees, and he realizes he's –

The water turns on, and it's ice cold, and all four of the other boys burst out in howling laughter that fades as they all hurry out of the bathroom before Firo has a chance to rip off the bandanna and confront them.

" Ah, come on! " he cries after them, scrambling out of the bathtub like a wet kitten, slipping on the floor and just barely catching himself with the assistance of the toilet. One hand shoots up and yanks the cloth down around his neck, and he only catches a flash of someone's shirt – it was Luck's or Keith's, they were the two wearing white – as his assailants flew down the hallway to find hiding spots. " Augh, you guys are _buttheads_! "

The beginning of a beautiful friendship.


End file.
